


Always Lead with Cuddles

by lovetheblazer



Series: Morphine as Truth Serum Verse [4]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1280131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren is sick. Chris is worried. And being at a public event like the Fox Upfronts where Chris can’t do a damn thing about it isn’t helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always Lead with Cuddles

Chris found Darren in the corner of the Fox party, bent at the waist, coughing painfully into the crook of his arm. He swept over in an instant, laying a gentle hand on Darren's back, rubbing slow circles until the coughing finally abated. Darren sounded terrible, and Chris had decided that his new mission for the night was to coax him into bed.

“Hey Chris,” Darren said in a raspy voice once he could talk again. “How's it going?”

Chris chuckled, giving Darren a sympathetic smile “Shh, it's going a lot better for me than it is for you, it would appear. Why are you here instead of back at your hotel room in bed?”

“Gotta put in appearances – mingle and shit,” Darren mumbled, swaying.

Chris saw Darren stumble slightly, throwing an arm around his waist to steady him. “Jesus Darren, careful,” he gasped quietly.

Darren closed his eyes, praying for the room to stop spinning. He tried to breathe deeply, frustrated when even that was difficult. “Ugh Chris,” Darren groaned, leaning into Chris gratefully, unable to hide how completely and utterly awful he felt any longer.

“Okay yeah, let's get out of here. I'm going to take you back to the hotel, k?” Chris said, already looking around for the least obvious exit to take while dodging the paparazzi.

“But you've gotta – we're supposed to...” Darren began, trailing off halfway through when he realized that he just didn't care about their obligations at the moment. “No never mind, bed please,” he whimpered.

“That's what I thought,” Chris nodded, satisfied. “Where's your coat? It's pretty cold out there.”

“It's over...there somewhere,” Darren replied with a weak wave of his hand.

“It's okay, I'll find it. Here, come on, let's sit you down,” Chris directed, steering Darren to an empty chair in a quiet corner of the event. “I'll be back in a sec. Just sit.”

“Not going anywhere,” Darren reassured, slumping forward in the chair and resting his head on the table, savoring the feeling of the cool glass against his overheated skin. Darren drifted for a while, somewhere between sleep and awake, startling slightly when he felt Chris' hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, found your coat, let's put it on,” Chris whispered, lifting Darren's pliant limbs as he began to help him into his coat.

“Not a child,” Darren mumbled grumpily under his breath.

Chris stopped, squatting in front of him and waiting until Darren was looking back at him before speaking. “I never said you were. But you're sick, and I want to help and _just_ – just let me take care of you, okay?”

Darren held Chris' gaze, seeing nothing but sincerity and concern in his eyes. “Okay. Yeah, that would be – that would be good.”

“Good,” Chris echoed, standing and extending a hand to help Darren to his feet, looping an arm around his waist.

“So how are we going to get out of here without getting mobbed by the paparazzi?” Darren asked.

“I've got a plan. You trust me?”

“Always,” Darren sighed, leaning on Chris a bit more as they made their way out of the party.

* * *

Somehow Chris had managed to work his magic, getting them out of the party into the waiting car without been seen. Once Darren was in the back of the black SUV, the sheer weight of how sick he was hit him. He slumped into Chris, completely boneless, coughing long and hard into Chris' shoulder, too exhausted to even turn his head. Chris tutted sympathetically, wrapping an arm around Darren to keep him semi-upright.

When Darren finally stopped coughing, Chris pressed a bottle of water into his hands. “Here, drink this,” he commanded, still rubbing lazy circles against Darren's back. He waited patiently while Darren drank a few sips, wincing at the rawness of his throat. “Honey,” Chris sighed quietly, frowning as he noticed Darren was shivering. He trailed his fingers up, brushing back Darren's hair, feeling the heat from Darren's cheeks and forehead in turn. “How long have you been sick? You weren't like this when we were in LA.”

“Mmm, dude on the plane next to me had the plague,” Darren muttered. “He coughed all over me. Then I woke up this morning and...yeah.”

“The plague, huh?” Chris chuckled. “Well, we better get you straight to a hospital then.”

“No hospitals,” Darren moaned. “Don't like 'em.”

“You don't say,” Chris teased gently. “That's brand new information.”

“Chris,” Darren whined petulantly.

“Shh, I'm just teasing. No hospitals. But a doctor may not be a terrible idea, judging from that cough.”

“No, I don't want a doctor. Just you, please,” Darren begged, tensing instinctively at the thought of doctors and the sharp things that tended to accompany them, at least in his experience.

“We'll see,” Chris hummed noncommittally.

“Don't say that – I know what that means,” Darren fretted.

“Shh, let's just get you to your room and then we'll worry about it, okay?” Chris soothed.

“Okay,” Darren whimpered, burying his face in Chris' neck and letting the feeling of Chris' hand in his hair lull him into a fitful, feverish sleep.

* * *

Darren was out like a light by the time they reached the hotel, feeling Chris' hands gently shaking him awake as though through a fog. He managed to wake up just enough to be tugged to his feet, leaning heavily on Chris, his eyes half closed. Chris wound an arm around Darren's waist, taking on most of his weight and slowly shuffling them towards the elevator. Darren heard the ding of the elevator door and the quiet hum as it took off, and then Chris' hands were on his face.

“Dare? You still with me?” Chris called, sounding worried.

And oh, that was bad. He didn't want Chris to worry. Both because he _never_ wanted Chris to worry about anything, but also because Darren was meant to be convincing Chris that a doctor was not needed. So he forced his eyes open, trying to stand a little straighter. “Yeah, I'm here. I'm fi -”

Darren's body clearly had other plans, cutting him off with a wheezing cough before he could even finish the word 'fine.' It was all Darren could do to keep himself upright with how hard he was coughing, his throat and chest burning fiercely. Chris seemed to know what he was thinking though, maneuvering them both until Darren's back was against the elevator wall and he could lean against it.

“You were saying?” Chris asked wryly once Darren had regained his breath. But Darren could tell by Chris' furrowed brow and the tension in his jaw that he was still concerned.

“I don't even know why I bother,” Darren grumbled.

“Me either – especially when you're this busted,” Chris chuckled. “I don't know why you think you can hide how shitty you're feeling from me. Or why you'd want to when I'm offering you a night full of hot tea and cuddles.”

“You didn't mention the cuddles before,” Darren grinned sleepily.

“Ahh, I see. So I should lead with the cuddles next time?” Chris teased.

“Always. You should _always_ lead with cuddles,” Darren admonished.

“Duly noted,” Chris bantered back.

At last, the elevator stopped at their floor with a quiet ding. Darren didn't resist when Chris wrapped his arms around him, half walking, half carrying them back to the room. Darren frowned when Chris past his room and continued walking. “My room's back there,” he mumbled with a weak wave of his hand.

“I know, but we're going to my room. It's better stocked for what we need.”

“What we need?” Darren asked, confused.

“Just wait, you'll see,” Chris hushed Darren, stopping in front of a room. Chris slipped his hand in his pocket, fishing out the room key, swiping it in the lock and letting them into the room. He flipped on the light with one hand, bringing Darren over to the bed and easing him down onto it gently, Darren immediately sinking back against the pillows.

“No wait, let's stay vertical for one more minute,” Chris warned.

“But...bed?” Darren mumbled, suddenly startled by just how exhausted he was.

“Don't you want your clothes off first?” Chris prompted.

Darren nodded vigorously. Groaning with the effort it took, he pushed up on one elbow, letting Chris kneel next to him on the bed to help him rest of the way up. He put his hands over his head, much like a small child. “Undress me, Ayah?” he asked innocently.

“Oh my god, Darren. This is not The Secret Garden,” Chris laughed. “Solid literary reference for someone who's dying of the plague though.”

“I try,” Darren smiled. He let Chris shift his body as needed, grateful as Chris made quick work of his jacket, tie, and shirt. Chris left his undershirt on, hands reaching for Darren's belt.

Darren couldn't resist the urge to tease Chris a bit more, offering a scandalized “Christopher, now is not the time,” as Chris unbuckled his belt. Chris laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bed, dropping his face to nuzzle Darren's shoulder as he snorted with fits of giggles.

Darren felt the knot in stomach lessen to see Chris smiling the full, open mouthed smile that lit up his whole face. Things had been tense lately, especially the pressure to keep their relationship under wraps, and Darren knew that it had been affecting Chris. Behind closed doors, Chris was...well Chris. But in public, it was like someone turned out the lights, leaving just a shell of Chris behind. Darren understood, perhaps more than anyone, why the extreme boundaries between professional and private lives were a necessity at the moment. But it still hurt to see Chris look so unhappy and know that he couldn't fix it.

“There, all done,” Chris said, tugging off Darren's last sock. He looked down at Darren, shivering in his undershirt and boxer briefs. “Let's get you in bed, baby,” he cooed, pulling back the sheets and duvet and helping Darren under the covers. Darren moaned appreciatively as Chris began sliding his fingers through his hair, knowing that was Darren's kryptonite.

“You're warm,” Chris remarked, sweeping his fingers across Darren's temple.

“No m'cold,” Darren whined, stifling a cough.

“You're running a fever.”

“I'm not,” Darren insisted.

Chris rolled his eyes. “I can prove it. Care to make a wager?”

“Not really,” Darren uttered, his voice small, knowing that the chills he'd been fighting to keep at bay all night were sign enough. He turned his head, letting out another hoarse cough, wincing at the burn in his chest.

“Thought so,” Chris nodded. “But I'm still gonna check – hang on.” Darren frowned, watching as Chris stood from the bed, walking over to the small dining table in the opposite corner. Chris picked up a small white plastic box, carrying it back with him to the bed.

“What's that?” Darren asked.

“First aid kit,” Chris explained. “I texted the concierge from the car and asked him to bring up some supplies for you.”

“Wow, what else you got over there?” Darren asked, craning his neck around Chris, trying to see what else was lying on the table.

“Some tea bags and honey and lemon, a humidifier, and the number of the hotel's on call doctor,” Chris replied, rooting around in the first aid kit until he found a thermometer.

“The first two things sound good,” Darren began. “But I don't much care of the third one.” He fidgeted with edge of the duvet, chewing on his bottom lip, his stomach churning at the mere threat of a doctor.

“Darren,” Chris sighed, reaching out to stroke his forearm. “Look, how about I make you a deal? If you've got a fever, we'll call the doctor now. Otherwise you can sleep and we'll see how you're feeling in the morning, okay?”

Darren shook his head weakly. “No deal, how about if we just wait until tomorrow and if I'm -”

“Hey, this isn't a negotiation,” Chris interrupted, placing a quieting finger over Chris' lips. “And besides, I don't negotiate with terrorists.”

“Did you just call me a terrorist?” Darren asked, the question muffled by Chris' finger still over his lips. And before he could argue you his case further, Chris was sliding the thermometer into his mouth, effectively silencing him. “Under your tongue,” Chris reminded him, and Darren took great delight in lifting his hand to flip Chris off.

A short while later, the thermometer beeped, and Chris slid it out before Darren could sneak a peek at the display. “101.4,” Chris read, whistling under his breath. “Jesus Darren – yeah, I'm calling the doctor.”

“Chriiiiis,” Darren groaned, knowing that arguing was futile.

“Honey, you're sick and you're just going to get worse unless you do something about it. But I'll be here the whole time and I'll try to keep the doc from busting out any needles, okay?” Chris soothed, cupping Darren's cheek.

“Promise?” Darren whispered.

“Of course,” Chris swore.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Chris let the doctor into the hotel room, shaking a dozing Darren awake. Darren jumped a mile when he realized there was someone else standing over him next to Chris, peering at him curiously. He tried to push up to a sitting position, but the doctor quickly sat down on the edge of the bed, telling him he should stay where he was comfortable.

Darren watched with growing agitation as the doctor removed piece after piece of equipment from his small leather carryall, expecting a giant syringe to follow at any second. He gave Chris a pleading look, and was relieved when Chris sat on the opposite side of the bed, back resting against the headboard as he took Darren's hand in his. Darren gave Chris a strange look, grateful for the grounding touch, but also surprised by the sudden semi-public display of affection, knowing how careful Chris usually was. Chris must have anticipated his thought, because he mouthed the words 'patient confidentiality' at Darren, causing Darren to nod with obvious relief. They didn't have to hide anything, at least not right now.

Chris continued to hold Darren's hand tightly, his thumb tracing looping patterns on the inside of Darren's wrist while the doctor took his vital signs and asked him questions about his symptoms. After getting the basic information, the doctor lifted his undershirt and prompted him to breathe deeply, which set off a new coughing fit almost immediately. Darren coughed and wheezed, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from the force of his coughing, aware that the doctor and Chris were both looking down at him with growing concern.

“Uhh sorry, guys,” he rasped when the coughing jag finally subsided.

“You okay?” Chris asked softly. “Need some water?”

Darren nodded, taking the bottle of water gratefully. He drank a few sips of water before sinking back against the pillows, his whole body aching.

“Okay,” the doctor said, jotting down some information on a prescription pad. “I've seen everything I need to know for now. So Darren, you've got a bad case of bronchitis, going by that cough. The fastest way to knock that out is with a round of antibiotics and steroids. We can give you a steroid shot now, which will give you some relief faster...”

Darren's hand crushed into Chris' at the mention of the word 'shot' and thankfully, Chris knew exactly what to say. “What's option B?” Chris asked. “He's not a big fan of needles.”

“Well, I can also give you a round of oral steroids,” the doctor explained. “That'll have the same effect, it'll just take a bit longer to kick in.”

Darren nodded vigorously, trying to make it clear that the waiting would be just fine, thank you very much. As usual, Chris read his mind, telling the doctor “he'll go with option B.”

“Okay, if you insist,” the doctor smiled, scribbling down one final medication. He spent a few minutes going over the prescriptions and the instructions with Chris, explaining that he'd give them to the concierge to fill and have sent up to the room so Chris wouldn't have to go out for them. Darren drifted in and out, too tired to even feel guilty about how much he was leaning on Chris for support.

Darren mumbled a grateful “thank you” and watched as Chris showed the doctor out, slumping into the bed with relief that the appointment was over and that he'd managed to avoid a shot. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep his drooping eyes open, wanting to stay awake a little longer to talk to Chris.

See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Chris smirked, returning to the bed with a bottle of Gatorade and a small paper cup.

“No, he was pretty nice, for a doctor,” Darren admitted. “What's in the cup?”

“He wanted you to go ahead and have a dose of the good cough syrup so you could get some rest,” Chris explained, handing over the small dose cup filled with a clear red liquid. Darren took a hesitant sniff, wrinkling his nose at the syrupy sweet, artificial smell. “Drink up,” Chris commanded, unscrewing the lid from the Gatorade bottle.

Darren tilted back the paper cup, groaning at the sensation of the thick, slimy liquid sliding down his throat, leaving a bitter, medicinal aftertaste. He took the offered Gatorade, taking several hard pulls from the bottle to chase away the bad taste in his mouth. “Ugghhh,” he whined.

“That bad, huh?” Chris spoke sympathetically. “Well, you'll be flying high in no time, so...”

“Really?” Darren asked, his eyes wide.

“I'm assuming so,” Chris chucked. “The cough medicine has Vicodin in it and we both know how sensitive you are to meds.”

“Mhmm excellent,” Darren sighed. “That should be an endless source of amusement for you, huh?”

“Naturally,” Chris laughed. “But you really should sleep now. Doctor's orders and all that. You need anything first?”

“Hmm,” Darren began, twisting his lips to the side as he considered the question. “Just one thing.”

“...and what would that be?” Chris asked, cupping Darren's cheek, running the pad of his thumb across his cheekbone.

“You,” Darren spoke with conviction, his eyes burning into Chris' own.

“You already have me, silly. You have for quite some time now,” Chris whispered, unable to look away from Darren's intense gaze.

“Nope, I want you at least semi-naked and in my bed, please?” Darren reached out and tweaked Chris' nose clumsily. “You're so pretty,” he slurred.

“Ahh, I see your cough syrup is starting to kick in, excellent,” Chris snorted.

“It is excellent, yes,” Darren groaned appreciatively. “It'd be even more excellent if you'd hurry up and get those clothes off. Where's my strip show?”

“Keep dreaming,” Chris said with a roll of his eyes. He began to peel off his clothing quickly, giggling as Darren made exaggerated catcalls for every inch of exposed skin. Finally, when he was stripped down to nothing but his boxers, he joined Darren, slipping beneath the duvet and tangling their legs together. Darren lifted his head and pillowed it on Chris' chest, tucked beneath Chris' chin. Chris pressed a quick kiss to his hair, before trailing his fingers beneath the hem of Darren's undershirt, scratching with blunt nails over the small of his back up to his shoulder blades again until Darren's body went completely limp and pliant.

“Comfy?” Chris whispered, reaching over and flipping off the lamp switch.

“Very,” Darren sighed.

“See, being sick isn't the worst thing in the world. Especially when you just let me take care of you,” Chris couldn't help but remind Darren.

“Only because you talked the doctor out of the shot,” Darren pouted. “If you really want me to not grumble, next time lead with the cuddles. Seriously, it'll help.”

“Okay okay,” Chris surrendered. “But for now, time to close your eyes and get some sleep, alright?”

Darren nodded against Chris' chest, reaching for Chris' hand, lacing their fingers before settling their intertwined hands over his heart. “Love you,” he muttered, his body giving into the fatigue

But even through the haze, he could hear Chris' murmured reply: _I love you too. And one day I'll be brave enough to tell everyone_. And to Darren, it sounded just like a promise.


End file.
